


Coming Alive

by EmpokNor



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Other, Rough Kissing, Sexual Content, nightmare problems and wholesome garak, this is basically very soft and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 01:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpokNor/pseuds/EmpokNor
Summary: On a mission to rescue a group of escapees from a Jem'Hadar Internment Camp, Julian struggles with his own nightmares. Luckily, there is someone there to help him.





	Coming Alive

**Author's Note:**

> I have made an active choice in referring to Garak as “the man” on occasion, though I understand that this might not be correct in terms of Cardassians. It was simply easier to vary the text like this. I also have to note that I feel like a writer for Voyager - I have no backup for all this technobabble. Other than that, I have no regrets, and I hope that you enjoy the read! 
> 
> This story takes place during season 5, after Purgatory’s Shadow and the outbreak of war.

“I’ll do it.”

For a brief second, nothing could be heard in the station’s Commanding office but a complete, utter silence.

Captain Benjamin Sisko sat motionless in his seat, piercing his eyes straight into Julian’s, reading his face like an animal studying its prey.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Julian had never felt so sure about anything before in his life. No other option seemed reasonable.

His commitment must have shown, as the Captain slowly leaned back, picking up his baseball to the right without ever breaking their eye contact. He threw the ball, caught it effortlessly, repeated the action. One time. Two times. Julian had seen it before. The thinking act.

“So… You volunteer.”

“I suppose you could call it that.”

“If there’s a personal reason behind this sudden interest of yours then I suggest that you tell me now,” he continued.

“There’s not,” Julian lied.

“I know you better than that, Doctor.”

Sisko continued his repeated actions with the ball, but a little smile was playing at the corner of his lips when he decided to continue, ignoring any potential response.

“I wouldn’t want to risk your personal health for a little… Personal vendetta.”

“I’ll be fine.”

The throwing stopped.

“I don’t want any mistakes, Doctor.”

“You’ll have none.”

“And I want these prisoners back, safe and sound, on Deep Space 9. The same goes for you. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

Sisko smiled, now fully, warm and hinting excitement. Slowly, he let his hand sink down, carefully placing the ball back on the table.

“Good. You’ll take the Rio Grande, tomorrow at 0700 hours, I’ll send someone to meet you at the docking pad. After all, you’ll need a pilot.”

Julian nodded.

“It won’t be easy finding someone.”

“Let me handle that, Doctor. I think I have someone in mind.”

\--

Julian met Elim Garak at 0700 hours exactly outside the entry point to the runabout pad where the Rio Grande was docked.

The capsule closed behind them as the doors to the Rio Grande opened wide, releasing a faint metal smell. Julian followed Garak in, bowed down to fit through the restricted entrance. He was still trying to put the other man’s words together as they walked through the limited space, heading for the helm.

“And you see it as your mission to… Update them, on the world affairs?”

“Oh absolutely not, Doctor. I’m only here to lift their spirits.”

The familiar buzz from the helm, the lights, and the engines reminded Julian of an animal awakening from hibernation. He quickly put down his equipment and bags before attempting to continue their conversation.

“Representing Cardassia, you mean.”

Garak pretended he wasn’t listening. Walking slowly down the confined space, he let one hand rest on the back of the seat before smiling to himself. Julian watched, quietly. In one slow motion, the other man sunk into the very comfortable chair that usually only carried Star Fleet-officers. It didn’t seem surprising that he would enjoy this temporary position of power - if it could be called that.

The emptiness of black space surrounded them from outside the screens.

“No need for political discussions, my friend. You have your agenda, I have mine. What we both want is them back on the station, safe and sound, and far away from the Jem’Hadar.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

\--

It certainly seemed like a tactic of Sisko’s - bringing these escapees back to Deep Space 9 instead of taking them back to Cardassia. They had no doubt suffered greatly during their captivity, and probably longed for nothing but their home and families. It almost felt inhumane, using their rescue to open negotiation with the Cardassian fleet, but Julian pushed it aside as “war-time exceptions”.

Bringing Garak along seemed another clever move, nevertheless, Julian was happy to have him by his side. Sisko had clearly neglected to mention all of this in fear that he would decline the offer - which he, of course, wouldn't have.

Although pretty much every person on the station was aware of Garak’s other “talents”, it was commonly ignored by command and civiliants, and a couple of years ago people would have simply laughed at this request - but things had changed, especially now, facing the outbreak of war.

Garak’s approach seemed the same as before - focused, sincere in doing whatever he could to ensure they would succeed. He did still keep conversation to keep the atmosphere light, but Julian could sense his seriousness.

“This could be a great opportunity for me, Doctor. I could be the hero that Cardassia has been waiting for. Safely guiding these people back to their home world, opening a window for negotiation, postponing this war-time business...“

“Regain a place with your people? Return to the Obsidian Order?”

Julian knelt down by his med-kit, checking so that everything was in place. He would need double the equipment, and a blessing from all kinds of gods if these prisoners were in half the shape of the ones they’d encountered in Internment Camp 371.

“One must not stop to see all possibilities.”  
Garak sighed, pleased by the mere thought.

“It might not be that easy. We’re on a federation vessel after all, on a federation-led mission. These people might even react resistantly when we try to ‘save them’.”

“Ah, nonsense. All they want is a replimat and some hyposprays and they’ll be singing with joy.”

“It’s never that easy.”  
He threw a glance over his shoulder, and managed to catch the poise of the other man, slightly hunching over the console with a concentrated expression on his face.

“I suppose not. But let’s not worry about any might’s and might not’s. We’ll have to find them first.”

He spoke playfully, but his face was left untouched by the sentiment. Julian couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind those barriers, constantly calculating what statement would come next.

“How long have they been drifting?” Garak continued.

“Six weeks.”

“Ah.” Garak took a dramatic pause, and stared out in the open space. “What a massive disappointment it will be for them, knowing that they could have walked free, to fight alongside of their captors. If Captain Sisko is lucky, they might even hold a grudge.”

Julian took a break, eyed the other man carefully.

“You want to make sure they don’t side with the Federation.”

Quickly, Garak turned around as his face cracked up in a charismatic smile. His eyes gleamed with entertainment and delight, sucking every second of mystery out of their conversation. “Oh, no no. Of course not. I’m just here as a familiar face, to represent their home. And to keep you company, of course.”

Julian sighed, raising his hands to surrender.

After a brief consultation about the hours left on their journey, Julian left the cockpit to get a couple of minutes of rest before their arrival.  
He closed the door to what could barely be called his quarters, and laid down on the poorly fitting bed, only to fall asleep in a matter of seconds.

-

He dreamt about camp 371, and the endless pit of darkness. An abyss of echoes and deafening rumbles made his body sticky with sweat and his head heavy. Migraines were easy enough to treat, but still as unpleasant to experience.

He made his way to the shared space, not quite a mess hall but a simple table, chairs and a replicator, and was just about to order a raktajino when the touch of hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed it softly. Julian almost jumped by surprise, and cursed those bright blue eyes glaring at him with confidence.

“I’m sorry Doctor, I hope I didn’t startle you.”

“Only just,” he replied, restraining himself for expressing his ungratefulness.

“Oh I only thought I’d drop by, we’re about an hour away from the source of the distress call and I thought you might want to get ready. I’ve not seen a single Jem’Hadar ship, and that says a lot, this is the Gamma Quadrant after all.”

Julian rubbed his eyes and pinched his fingers at the back of his uniform, uncomfortable sharing the aftermath of his nightmare. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to sweat through the fabric anymore, but Garak could probably spot his unease anyway.

“They’re probably busy making promises for the future on Cardassia,” he muttered, to the tailor’s great amusement.

“Now now, don’t make this a political discussion, we all have our reasons,” the other man replied slyly, brushing some dirt off his tunic.

“I can’t believe you’re still defending them, after all that’s happened. And you - you’re in exile, for god’s sake.”

He didn’t mean for it to come out as snappy as it did. Garak didn’t seem hurt, only taken aback by this sudden change.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I don’t remember asking you for opinions.”

He eyed him, carefully. Julian felt like he was pierced through by needles.

“But don’t worry,” Garak continued, “I don’t mind a challenge every now and then. Even coming from you.”

As patronizing as it was, Julian didn’t argue. He turned back to the replicator and ordered his coffee, bringing the beverage with him as he accompanied Garak back to the helm.

When entering the small space, they both parted to each end, Julian opening each of his bags to prepare for whatever would come. Garak sat down by the console again, humming away for himself, starting conversations that Julian only briefly listened to, forming half replies, mostly in agreement.  
He stared at his tricorder for minutes, not really paying attention to the readings showing up on the screen. Pictures from his nightmares never seemed far away.

“Doctor?”

“Hm?”

Something similar to worry painted Garak’s expression. Julian couldn’t make out whether he believed it or not, which left a sour after taste of bitter unbelief behind.

“Would you mind telling me what’s bothering you?”

The Cardassian did not change his expression. The more he looked, the more sincere it felt. Strange.

“It’s nothing,” Julian quickly brushed it off, “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“You may be able to tell that to you fellow friends with the Federation, but you won’t fool a an ex-spy with such nonsense.” Garak pointed dramatically at his eyes, and smiled. “I know you, Doctor.”

After a second of debating with himself, he decided that there was no use in keeping the facade up. This man would not give in, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“Frankly, Mr. Garak, I don’t know why you’re so interested. But if you must know…” He took a quick pause.  
“I’ve not had that many good nights of sleep recently.”

“Ah,” his comrade smiled, pleased with himself, “I understand. Memories of the Internment Camp coming to haunt you?”

“How did you -- No, don’t answer,” Julian stopped himself, “I don’t want to know.”

“Simple observation, that’s all.” Raising his hands, like he was defending himself, Garak smiled again, but this time with a genuine warmth.

They looked at each other in silence for a second, before Julian turned away again, slightly uncomfortable about sharing such a private issue. He had enough on his plate, without Garak snooping around. There were certain things that he’d rather keep to himself.

“Don’t worry, my friend. I get them too. They’re sometimes just a little bit more… Persistent, than at other times.”

This came as a surprise.

“You? You get nightmares?”

“You seem surprised. I hope you didn’t think that I’m completely heartless.”

“I had no idea,” Julian added, and received a playful smile back. “I just didn’t think that you would… Share it.”

“I have no problem sharing it with you, my dear Doctor. But I’m afraid that if you tell any of your friends I might have to kill you.”

Unable to keep himself from smirking, Julian shook his head. “You have my word.”

They continued, again in silence. An hour passed quickly, and Garak kept his words at minimum, surprisingly enough, as Julian finished off what he needed to do. By the time they’d reached the coordinates of the distress signal, there was nothing ahead of them but a vast, black curtain of empty space.

“Scanning for vessels,” Garak noted, and the words felt strange to Julian’s ears. He had never heard, nor seen him pilot as much as a shuttle before, and everything about their situation suddenly seemed absurd.

“Anything?”

“Nothing,” the man noted, his brows now furrowed. “That’s strange. As far as I’m aware, their ship shouldn’t be cloaked, but there is nothing on the sensors.”

“Widen the range,” Julian added, aware that Garak probably already was trying. “Do you think they could have been captured?”

“I have no idea.”

The neverending blackness seemed to grow bigger and bigger the more Julian looked, and he found himself staring at the screen like it was feeding his gaze. He broke off, glancing over at the Cardassian who seemed to know exactly what he was doing at the Starfleet controls.

Garak seemed aware of his looks, as he turned to shoot him a quick: “Go ahead Doctor, I don’t mind if you move back to your quarters for some time. I’ll call if there’s any sign of the ship.”

“Are you sure?”

Julian was already standing.

“Absolutely.” Garak stated, and Julian climbed to the back of the tiny vessel before he’d even managed to bring himself to say thank you.

\--

Two hours later, there was still no sign of the escapees or their ship. After tossing and turning in his tiny quarters, Julian gave up on rest, and spent half an hour trying to replicate a few Cardassian recipes to fill his time and stomach. With a 50/50 success, he brought the bowls with him to the helm, where Garak was still scanning through the darkness ahead.

“I thought you’d might be hungry,” he nodded, as Garak’s eyes glittered with affection.

“You’re a saint, my friend,” he gestured with open arms, and instantly started to scoop some of the Sem’han stew from its container.

Julian sat down in one of the commanding chairs, digging in to the content of his own bowl. He hadn’t realised exactly how starved he was, and the food slipped down with no effort, not even the funny aftertaste from the replicator bothering him.

“So,” he started, and watched Garak pour more yamok sauce over his portion, “It’s been two hours and we have no sign of these Cardassians. What do you think we should do?”

“We wait,” the other man said, lifting up another spoonful, “Patience, my friend, is a virtue,”

“And what happens when our patience runs out?”

“I suppose we’ll find that out”

Julian couldn’t bring himself to argue about it further. Instead, he stared at the spots, blinking in the distance. Thousands and thousands of stars, merely a few of them charted on Federation maps.

“Does it ever make you feel a little bit… Pointless?” Garak sighed, seeming to keep the same focus as Julian.

“What do you mean?” he replied.

“Oh, you know. This whole quadrant. Another territory for us to claim. What we have, is really, just quite small.”

Julian blinked. And old sentiment, but he could relate to it. With their current position drowning in darkness and lack of life, he certainly understood the point that Garak was trying to make.

“You mean my people or your people?”

“Does it matter? We’re equally as bad, you and I,” The man smiled.

Julian watched him closely for a second, trying to see if there was more behind this sudden philosophical outburst.

“Yes, it does,” he finally offered back, “It does feel pointless sometimes. I suppose that’s why we are here, though. Embracing the mysterious.”

“Oh, no doubt. And helping people in need, of course.”

Garak finished his bowl with a pleased sigh, and stood up to collect the empty containers. Julian tried to protest, but was overruled by a series of “oh no, allow me”. When he reached out to hand over the bowl in his hands, Garak’s fingertips briefly brushed over the outside of his hand. Just a brief, soft, minimal touch between scales and skin. A strange feeling planted a seed in Julian’s stomach. He instantly looked away.

The other man left, leaving him alone at the helm.  
Suddenly, the silence felt deafening.

-

He had no idea how long he’d slept for, but his undershirt was once again drenched in sweat, and his temples felt as if they were heavy with liquid. A flash of pain that seemed to originate from his upper vertebrae made its way up the back of his head, and Julian grimaced, as he reached out to massage his neck. He checked the time.

0200.

Facing defeat, he reached out for whatever trousers he’d happened to pack, and made his way out to the shared quarters.  
For a second, he struggled with recognising his own breathing pattern, and had to stop to calm himself down.

The lights were on in the shared quarters. Unsurprisingly, he found Garak sipping a mug of tea, reading something on a pad.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” He grunted, and Garak spun around in his chair, almost flustered. “Please, don’t need to get up.”

Julian moved to the replimat, and managed to order an extra strong, extra sweet raktajino. He sat down on the opposite side of the table, curiously looking at the pad in Garak’s hand.

“What are you reading?”

The Klingon coffee was bitter and strong, and exactly what he needed.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” quickly, almost a little too quickly, Garak put the pad away.

“What? Some evil plot you’re planning to conduct as soon as we’ve found these missing people?”

Garak smiled mysteriously. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? I’m afraid I must disappoint you. It’s nothing but a romance novel.” Then quickly, before Julian had time to judge, “It passes the time.”

“I thought Odo was the only one on the station reading those things.”

“I happen to be the one providing him with new ones.”

“Really?” Julian raised an eyebrow, “Well. You learn something new every day.”

“Oh, I have plenty of surprises,” Garak smiled. Held his gaze for long, about two seconds too long, before breaking it off and taking a sip from his tea. “Nightmares again?”

The reminder threw him back into a state of unease. “I’m afraid you’re right.”

“Ah.” The man offered a sympathetic nod, “Don’t worry, Doctor. It will pass. Give it some time.”

“I just wish they wouldn’t leave me feeling so… Helpless.”  
Garak watched him, quietly, waiting for him to continue.

“I mean, here we are, again, putting ourselves at risk, and there is nothing stopping us from being swept up in another storm. I don’t know why we keep insisting on putting ourselves in danger.”

“For the greater good, Julian. That’s what you Starfleet Officers tend to do when in these kind of situations.”

Sinking back into his chair, he gave this some thought. Of course, the other man was right, but it didn’t feel like some heroic mission anymore. It just felt like survival.  
Taking another sip of his raktajino, he sighed in defeat.

“I suppose you’re right.”

Garak met his gaze.

“As long as you find it worth your while.”

“I’m not even sure if I do that anymore. No, that’s a lie… I’ve always wanted to help people, it’s just --” he fell silent, seeking his words. “It’s easy to forget how to do it when you’re constantly surrounded by so much pain.”

“It’s war.”

“I know. It’s just… Not easy.”

“Who says it has to be?”

Garak met his gaze. For a brief second, their conversation was left hanging in the air and Julian wasn’t sure what he’d reply. In the end, he didn’t. He let himself be examined, watched like a boy being schooled by his teacher.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Garak finally offered.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh I don’t know…” Stirring his tea, the Cardassian smiled to himself, “A little bit of company perhaps?”

It must have been the constant exhaustion, but a wave of gratitude washed over Julian and the absurdity almost made him laugh.

“What do you have in mind?”

“There don’t seem to be much to do in this runabout, but I could always move to a chair in your quarters while I finish this,” he waved the little pad in the air, and added; “Just if you want to get some more sleep, that is.”

“That would be…” Julian nodded, “... Nice. I think.”

No questions asked, Garak moved with him into the bunker, took position in one of the corners, sitting mostly in silence whenever he didn’t laugh or comment on something in the book. Julian picked up a pad of his own and managed to finish one of his medical reports before slowly feeling his eyelids fall heavy and heartbeats get slow, beating the caffeine rush.

They engaged in conversation, sharing easy discussions without falling into the topic of politics or despair, and before he’d really noticed it, Julian trailed off into an easy slumber to the rhythm of Garak’s melodious speaking pattern.

He didn’t notice the lights going off or the door shutting, as he was left alone with nothing but fragments of dreams and memories.

-

There were still no signs of the missing ship the following day, and they were both growing intolerably impatient for every hour that passed without success. Garak was the first one to call for a break, bringing some plates to the helm where they ate quickly, starved by the exhaustion and gloom.

“Got to finish your book last night?” Julian asked, scraping up the last of his food. Garak seemed puzzled at first, then beamed up by the realisation.

“Ah, yes, yes... They found each other in the end. Surprising, given the source culture of this novel.”

“Native to you?”

The man nodded. “I prefer a dramatic ending, but I suppose one could use some cheering up every now and then.”

Julian smiled. “See, it isn’t so awful after all.”

Garak ignored this.  
“And, how was your sleep?”

“Better.”  
He didn’t want to dwell on it.

“So what do you say, we repeat it tonight?”

Julian paused his motions for a second, slightly overthrown by the brassiness of this question.

Garak continued, as blunt as ever. “If my boring talk helps you sleep then I am happy to offer you my services. Besides, I have another title or two that I am interested in.”

Julian didn’t know what to say. It felt like an innocent offer, if such a thing existed for a retired spy, but he couldn’t help but feel a little bit flustered by it.

“Sure. I mean, we can always hope that we’ll find these people before we have to spend another night here, but...”

“Oh, we’ll find them. Don’t you worry. I just thought I would ask, as it’s proving more difficult than we first imagined.”

“Right… Thank you. ” Julian tried to act nonchalant. “It doesn’t look very promising, though.”

Garak smiled lightly, “I suppose it doesn’t. But what’s a mission without a challenge?”

Peace and quiet, Julian thought, and glanced to the side as he watched the tailor finish his plate and relax back in the chair with a pleased sigh, still a little baffled, and very intrigued.

It took them a couple of minutes to regain focus, but once they did, working seemed like an easy way to pass the time.

Julian quickly got tired of reading diagnostics that didn’t give away any clues to what they were looking for, or even where they were heading. There were no traces that they could follow, no signs of any vessel passing by. It was like following the trail of a ghost - an undetectable presence somewhere, someplace, neither near nor far. Non-existent.

It wore them both out.

Time passed slowly and endlessly, and what felt like days were really just a couple hours. Taking turns by the helm, they managed to rotate fairly equally, and take regular breaks for food and rest. Garak was often comfortably seated in his chair, reading off his pad, and Julian decided to pick up some literature himself. They stayed up for 17 hours before his bones started to ache inside his body.

When he simply couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, Garak gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and suggested they’d retire to the quarters again, so they made their way back in silence. Julian sank into his bed, uniform still on, and encouraged Garak to stay for as long as he wanted.  
It felt… Odd.

Even though he was tired, it took him longer to fall into deep sleep this time around. He was constantly aware of the other man’s micro movements, the tapping of a finger, an occasional nod… Calming, strangely.  
Just as he thought he was going to fall asleep, he could feel a soft hand on his arm. The touch was so frail it was practically nonexistent, and his body was too tired to react to it, but it lingered on the thin fabric over his skin.  
He could see the shadow of a figure moving in.

The whisper was so quiet, it could have been imagination.

“Sleep well, my dear.”

It wasn’t.

Garak turned off the lights, shut the doors after him, and left Julian wide awake with his heart hammering inside his chest.

-

“This must be it. There is no other explanation, this has to be it!”

Garak’s eyes stared straight through his soul with excitement. On the screen was a splash of paint enlightening the darkness, a purple pool of gas clouds and light.

A nebula.

“They must have hid themselves from Dominion sensors. Can we see them on our sensors?”

“No. We’ll have to go in,” Garak suggested eagerly, “It’s the only way we’ll ever know if they’re still alive.”

“Wait, wait,” Julian reached out his arm to stop the man from laying in a course, “We don’t know what’s in there, it could be a trap for all we know.”

“I’m not disrespecting your agenda, Doctor, but these people may be in grave danger.”

“And I’m not disrespecting yours, but we’re no use to them if we die.”

Garak locked his eyes on him, and watched him carefully. It was no doubt the uncontrollable, self-righteous, morally coded Starfleet behaviour that bothered him. Julian knew that.

“We came here to do our job, Doctor. And I intend to finish it. If you want to die then that’s up to you, but I’m not giving up so easily. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

That was not only a fair point to make, but the exact kind of answer that Julian was hoping to hear. He didn’t want to turn away just yet, all he needed was a reason to step aside.  
“Well, I suppose you’re right. I’m just the ship’s doctor. You lead the way, Mr. Garak.”

With a pleased smile, the Cardassian reached out two grey hands and started to lay in a course for the nebula.

-

It was like swimming in cotton candy. Even though its vast layers of clouds and colour blocked most of the screen, it was still a view to remember. Julian didn’t touch his pad for at least two hours, but sat completely still in his chair by the helm, staring at the screen - pink, purple, deep blue and red all melting into each other, varying from particle to particle. The display seemed so bewitching it almost felt like it was fake - a view intentionally created to mislead them. But it couldn’t be. Or at least, Julian hoped that it wasn’t, knowing how hopelessly distracted they both were.  
A pool of red opened up just in front of them, strong enough to dye the whole inside of the runabout temporarily scarlet. Its beaming light made every piece of chrome sparkle and shine.

He was finally pulled away from the sight, the beauty and the lights by a grunting Garak, sighing audibly and helplessly from his console.

“We’ve lost our sensors,” he huffed, clearly annoyed by this stumble.

Julian frowned. “How did that happen?”

“It seems this beautiful cloud of ours has a hidden agenda. There’s corrosive gas disrupting the sensors. It’s interfering with our communicators too.”  
Hopelessly fumbling, the Cardassian groaned impatiently when another indicator started to blink.

Suddenly, the whole cockpit started to buzz like the ship was taking one last rustling breath, lights and sounds rising to their peak before crashing down in an anticlimactic surge. For a second, Julian could see nothing but the pool of light, dashing, turning him temporarily blind, then - nothing but complete, utter darkness. The silence was deafening. Not a creak, not a noise could be heard but his own ragged breath.

“Initiating Backup Sequence”

A deep sigh of relief escaped him as soon as the lights were up, and he could hear the calming buzz from the computer coming back to life.

“Failed to complete backup sequence. Shields at 17%.”

Garak stirred nervously, looking desperate to find something preventing the vessel from breaking down.

“This is… Not good. We can’t get stuck here…”

Fumbling around, they tried to get a grip around what was happening. Dashboards and lights kept flashing on and off, having them both run up and down and back and forward, leaping towards every opportunity they could find to keep the shuttle alive.

Nothing seemed to be working.  
Just as Julian was about to give up, a thought suddenly hit him.  
He gasped, making Garak turn towards him with surprise.

“This must have been what happened to them too.”

No reaction. Julian stumbled on his words, eagerly trying to get them out.

“Think about it… They were alone, drifting uncontrollably and saw this nebula as a safe place to hide. Either they managed to change their course to enter it, or they drifted right through it... “

“... Which means that they could still be in here somewhere,” Garak’s eyes lit up, and he grabbed Julian’s arms enthusiastically, “If we can just prevent this gas from spreading anywhere further than it already has, we can probably manage to get the full engines back. We can find them. It’ll only be a matter of time before we can scan for other vessels.”

He eagerly turned his back to the helm, and started to make his way out of the cockpit, through the transporter alcove before disappearing around the corner. “We can still find them…”

“Where are you going?” Julian shouted after him.

“To the impulse engines,” the reply echoed through the small pathway and back to him.

The cockpit was still lit up by the backup lights, making everything seem slightly smaller than before.

Julian sighed, and threw another glance at the treacherous beauty swallowing them up. He felt helpless.  
But just as he was about to find something small to occupy his mind with, the tailor’s voice came traveling from the corridor.

“What are you waiting for, Doctor?”

Without hesitation, Julian grabbed one of the portable beacons and climbed through the alcove to offer whatever help he could give.

-

Garak worked through every single inch of the runabout’s engines. Whether he knew what he was doing or not seemed possibly irrelevant, but Julian offered a hand in whatever way he could. He provided food and company, insisted on breaks from time to time (which were usually ignored) and rotated back to the cockpit to check for signs of other ships. The only thing ahead of them were endless layers of gas and light.

By nighttime, the shields were at maximum, and they had somehow managed to keep the gas from moving any further into the compartments. Even though main power still hadn’t been restored, it felt like a minor success.

Time passed, and the Cardassian continued to work to Julian’s brainless chatter.

“You have two choices - gagh, or krada leg.”

“Neither,” Garak replied, concentrating deeply on the blinking lights in front of him. “Are you feeling Klingon tonight, Doctor?”

Julian sighed, “I’m afraid so. It seems to be the only surviving option on the replicators.”

He didn’t get a reply, and wondered if the other man had even paid attention to his answer.

“I suppose we could always chop off a limb or two, you know, in terms of survival.”

“Mhm…”

His theory was confirmed. Julian smiled, amused by the dedication. He couldn’t remember seeing Garak so infatuated before, and he quite enjoyed it.

“Garak. I think it’s time we leave this. We can continue tomorrow, we’re at a standstill.”

This seemed to break the illusion. The Cardassian turned around, “I am fine where I am, thank you.”

“You haven’t eaten since this morning, and you’ve barely had any breaks.”

“You go ahead. Get some rest, Doctor. I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

“I won’t leave you alone.”

Like a stubborn child, Garak turned around again, “You do as you please.”

“Fine. I’ll bring the gagh to you, if it’s going to be that big of a problem.”

Turning away to leave, Julian glanced over his shoulder and took a few demonstrative steps. Like he expected, he was stopped fairly quickly. “Okay, Doctor. You win. But don’t bother with the gagh, it isn’t half as tempting when ‘recycled’. I have something better in mind.”

-

“Something better” turned out to be a tall, dark bottle of kanar. Julian couldn’t help but feel a little surprised, as it wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he called for a break. Garak smoothly pulled it up from one of his bags and asked the replicator for two slim glasses. He unscrewed the cork and started to pour some of the blackish liquor into them. It seemed thinner than any other kanar that Julian had seen and, on one regretful occasion, tested.

“And exactly what had you planned to use this bottle for on a rescue mission?”  
Julian reached out to receive the drink.

“Oh, one can never be sure when kanar might come in handy. Say this group of escapees were working on an undercover mission, and two had an enthusiastic fondness for the drink - what exactly would they be willing to share for a taste, or even a bottle?”

He smiled, and put the drink towards his lips. Julian did the same. It tasted strong, much more so than any other liquor he’d tried on Deep Space 9, and its particular taste spread slowly across his palate. When he wasn’t able to hide his grimace, Garak smiled.

“It takes a bit of getting used to.”

“It’s not just that. This one is quite... Strong.”

Bringing their glasses, and after much persuasion from Julian’s side, one plate of replicated gagh to share, they started to head back to the engines so that Garak could continue with his work. As they were walking, Julian took another sip. It slipped down easier this time, warming up his throat and his chest.

“It’s a particularly nice one, I have to say. I managed to request it through Quark and I never thought I’d get my hands on such a well-aged sample again.”

Garak kept speaking about his difficulties with the delivery, and Julian took the opportunity to relax, sitting down on the floor, slowly work through the glass sip by sip. He even closed his eyes at one point without the Cardassian noticing. It almost felt like a moment of self-care to him. He’d had no idea of how exhausted he actually was, and the drink felt like a nice reward for their complete devotion these past few hours.

They managed to get a few bites to eat alongside their drinks, and Julian felt himself get chattier and chattier, sharing his opinions on discussions that he never normally participated in. He even dared to ask about Ziyal, playing nonchalant as Garak trailed off on another moral debate, hands still working away with the engines.

“You see, my friend, she’s so young. She’s had nothing but hardship her whole life, and I do pity her. Nevertheless, it would be foolish to mistake pity for whatever it is that she is looking for in me...”

“So, you’re not attracted to her?”

He hid the expression on his face by downing the last bit of liquor at the bottom of his glass.

“Can one ever say that for certain?”

Julian chuckled. “Of course you can.”

Garak smirked. “Maybe. It’s just that this situation seem a little bit more complicated than others.”

“That sounds like an excuse to me.”

He had no idea why he was pushing so much. If anything, he wanted to leave the subject.

“Call it whatever you like. I’m not sure whether I really should be taking advice from the most disreputable romantic on the station.”

Julian laughed.

They continued to work through the bottle, and Garak seemed to grow more and more enthusiastic for every sip that he took.  
Eventually, he left his tools by the side, and allowed himself to relax too.

“Thank you for keeping me sane, Doctor. A little fuel goes a long way.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I suppose I was just needling a little company.”

“And what a fine company to share. Thank you, my dear.”

Garak raised his glass. Something surprisingly soft passed through his eyes, landing on Julian for a second, lingering before finally disappearing again.  
The memory of the previous night, and Garak leaving his quarters briefly passed through his mind. His heart quickly picked up its pace.

“So what will you do when we’ve boarded a group of kanar-addicted Cardassians, and we’ve finished the last bottle?”

“Oh, don’t you worry. I have plenty of other interrogation methods.”

Garak reached out and re-filled their glasses. He barely even seemed affected by its qualities, but Julian’s body was heating up for every second that passed, leaving a pleasant buzz of comfort and warmth. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d even had a syntheol, let alone something stronger.

“Maybe we should do this more often,” he noted, “our weekly lunches would get much more interesting with some liquor on the side.”

An hour passed without two seconds of silence between them. When Garak wasn’t engaging Julian in some obscure story from his past, they discussed station affairs or the Bajor/Cardassia situation, anything that came up in conversation. Julian shared every detail in his latest holosuite adventure much to Garak’s amusement, and they laughed about O’Brien’s raving enthusiasm.

“You know, I quite enjoyed our last engagement. Maybe we should try it again sometime?”

Without even thinking, Julian opened his mouth. “Oh, you have no idea what you’d be getting yourself into.”

“Well, maybe we ought to extend our weekly lunches further... Holo-adventures on weekends?”

“I think Miles might get jealous,” Julian smiled, hoping his embarrassment wasn’t too obvious.  
Garak only laughed.

“Hasn’t he got a wife and family to take care of?”

“You’ve got a point.”

For a brief second, Julian dared to look up again, and was met by a suggestive smile. He couldn’t fully comprehend what he was experiencing, and had to stop himself before opening his mouth, throwing another comment out.  
This tension wasn’t new. Five years they’d shared their lunches on the promenade, but there was something new and intimate with this situation, just the two of them, defenceless on a roundabout in open space. A shiver trailed down his spine, by nervousness or uncomfort, he wasn’t quite sure. Blue eyes were scanning him cautiously.

“Is there something wrong, my friend?”

He realised he’d been sitting in silence, actively displaying these speculations.

“Nothing, nothing, I just... “ He took a breath. “I just thought about how different this is, that’s all.”

“What do you mean?”

Garak leaned in. His ice cold eyes, bright and sharp, were slowly scanning Julian’s face, probably reading it like an open book.  
The side effects of the alcohol suddenly made him feel sluggish, and a little bit slow.

“Two days ago we would have shared a lunch at the promenade. Now, we’re trapped in space, on the wrong side of the wormhole.”

“I suppose,” Garak leaned back against the wall, still keeping his eyes on Julian. “But that might not necessarily be a bad thing. Maybe an adventure like this is exactly what we needed.”

Not quite sure what the other man was meaning, Julian still nodded and added a quiet, “Maybe…” before returning to his glass for a comforting sip.

After a second of silence, Garak let go of his cryptic expressions and got them both lost in an intricate tale from a similar journey he’d endured, losing Julian’s focus about two thirds in. When he noticed the young doctor trailing off, his tone changed to something somewhat softer, and wrapped up by asking if it was time for them to head back to their quarters. Julian nodded, slightly dizzy by all the talking and drinking.

Standing up was the hardest part. A rush of blood to his head threw him slightly off balance, but he caught himself before Garak noticed. He hadn’t had much, but the thin liquor they’d enjoyed tonight was nothing like the wine-like drink that roamed around the station, and he’d completely underestimating its powers. Halfway out the door he almost tripped, which Garak found slightly amusing.

“Managing well?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, placing a hand on the wall to balance himself, “I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

“If you say so, my friend. Well then. I will see you tomorrow again.”

With that, the Cardassian turned and left.

Julian kept one hand along the wall as he moved as quickly as he could towards his quarters.

Once he’d entered, he immediately felt opposed to the space. There was something not quite right, but he couldn’t really put his finger on it.  
Tiredly, he unpinned his uniform from the back and swapped the undershirt for a similar turtleneck and a pair of soft trousers. Before he’d even tried to slip into his bunker, he stopped, confused by himself, staring right in front of him.  
It didn’t feel right.

He turned, looked at the corner.

He turned back, looked at the bed.

A wave of self pity washed over him.

At the corner of his eye he could see the pad that Garak had left the night before.

He looked back at the bed.

The pad. Sad, lonely on its pedestal.

If it was his newfound liquid courage, a genuine excuse or just self pity and loneliness he wasn’t really sure, but he grabbed the pad with his hand and stormed out in the corridor, heading straight for Garak’s quarters. He had no explanation to why he was rushing so bad, but it felt necessary.

The Cardassians words kept running through his head. “Maybe an adventure like this is exactly what we needed.” Delivered plainly, passing over his head, but now it just sounded like deliberate teasing.

Stupid.

When he reached the door he could barely be bothered to knock.

Garak had during their short time separated managed to swap his clothes for sleepwear, but he hadn’t lied down in his bunker yet. He was kneeling by his bags, picking a new set of clothes for tomorrow, but looked up in surprise upon Julian’s arrival.

To a certain extent, it felt stupid - marching in at a high speed, looking like nothing less than a disoriented animal and smelling like sterilizer, but Julian reached out his hand with determination and put the pad down on the bunk bed.

Garak stared at it.

“What’s this?”

“Your pad. I thought you maybe wanted it back.”

Curiously, the Cardassian looked at Julian, then at the pad, then back to Julian before finally standing up and opening his mouth to speak.

“Well. Thank you, Doctor.”

He lifted it off the bed slowly, then moved it over to his bag, without really paying any attention to it.

Julian was suddenly at a loss. He didn’t really know what to say. He mumbled a quiet, “I suppose I should go then.”

“I suppose you should,” Garak replied, but none of them made an indication to move.  
They were yet again left standing, just looking at each other.

For one second, they were completely still. Then Julian moved, almost out of control, leading on nothing but his instincts. His hands raised up to the other man’s face, fingers curling to the back of his neck, feeling his hair, his skin, his warmth, eyes closing as he pulled himself in.

And he kissed him.

Slowly, lingering for as long as he could. For every second that passed by he could feel a little bit of pressure falling away from his shoulders, a sudden relief sweeping over him like a comforting blanket.

He felt stunned. Surprised by himself.  
The kiss was soft, but abrupt. A second passed by before Garak relaxed into the touch and Julian felt thousands of thoughts travel through his head, repeating themselves over and over again.

Eventually, carefully, he had to end it. The thought of having to face whatever would come next made him nauseous, but just as Julian started to withdraw from the touch he felt two hands on the small of his back, pushing his body in back in.  
And Garak kissed him again. This time, it was sweeter, softer. A hand was gently trailing down his back. It was either the alcohol or the adrenaline, but his head suddenly started to pound, and if he thought his heart had been beating quickly before, it was nothing compared to this. Garak smiled into the kiss.  
When they finally parted, he was greeted with that same smile.

“It seems you’ve finally caught me by surprise, my dear.”

Julian didn’t know what to reply. In half astonishment, he let his hands fall down, returning to his sides, but Garak wouldn’t let go just yet.

“Right… Well, I am too. Surprised...”

One hand was still holding on to his back, stroking it gently.  
There was something about the touch that felt odd. It was familiar, but inexplicably obscure.

“I’m sorry, I --”

He wasn’t sure what he really wanted to say. Still with his hands holding round his waist, not seeming even slightly interested in letting them go, Garak just kept his gaze locked on Julian’s, waiting for his final verdict.

“I don’t know… I should probably just go back…”

Carefully peeling away the hands around his back, and starting to back up towards the door, Julian tried to not look too bothered about his sudden turn of interest.

“If you wish.”

Garak suddenly looked amused. Not embarrassed, or confused as Julian would have expected him to look, but even more intrigued.  
It almost made him angry.

He wasn’t completely sure what reaction he would have wished for, he wasn’t sure if he was acting on intoxication or emotions or just a small stupid voice of hope that he’d silenced within himself after a couple of weeks of friendship, but he was so suddenly left at a loss he couldn’t do anything but just stand and stare in front of him.

“Goodnight, then.” Garak added, raising an eyebrow.

And Julian finally came alive, without saying a single word, he just turned his back and left, leaping back to his quarters like a schoolboy running to his room, overcome by shame.

\--

They didn’t speak about it the following morning. Neither during lunch, afternoon or coffee by the impulse engines and jefferies tube. It was probably out of respect for him that Garak didn’t bring it up, he never mentioned their dinner and drinks, and wouldn’t reference anything even slightly provocative to break whatever it was that they were trying so desperately to rebuild.

The hours that passed felt longer than ever - gaping blackness and stale conversations brought nothing but unease and discomfort for the two of them, but when it was starting to get late again, the main computer was finally up and running. All main power had been restored, all thanks to Garak, and the relief was greater than Julian had anticipated. As quickly as they could, they made their way back to the helm to greet the treacherous lightshow which had brought them down in the first place. The nebula seemed no less attractive, only slightly more intimidating than before.

“They’re in here somewhere,” he mumbled, searching through the screen for the smallest sign. Of course, there were none.

“Yes,” Garak replied. “After all of this, I do hope you are right.”

“It’s the only suitable explanation. How else could they have stayed hidden for this long?”

“In due time, Dear Doctor. We’ll have our answers.”

Julian relaxed into his chair.  
He stared in front of him, arms and legs feeling heavy like lead, cold and dense and impossible to move.

“In all honesty… Are we still in a position to help them? I suspect we are as rugged as they are by this point.”

“They might be hurt.”

“And we are not?”

Garak raised an eyebrow, threw him a puzzled glance. “We have food, water and a Doctor. It’s not over yet.”

Julian didn’t reply.

He let Garak continue for himself in silence. After a couple of seconds, he turned and looked at the man as he worked away by his console, navigating them through the poisonous clouds that just never seemed to end.  
The Cardassian noticed his stare, but never returned it.

A hardened exterior was there. Julian knew, he’d seen it before, an armor to battle anyone trying to get closer than acceptable - he’d experienced it himself but he’d liked to think that he was past that point.  
Clearly not anymore.

They sat in silence. Occasionally a few brief questions were shot back and forwards until Julian went for food, returned with a much more pleasant option than yesterday’s menu, and they continued to eat in silence. They stayed up later, navigating, looking for small signs without any success. It felt like a bad reprise, a scene repeating itself in a very long and boring play.

Garak stayed when Julian went off to bed. He didn’t want to, but he was dozing off in his chair and he wasn’t offering much but awkward companionship.  
His bed didn’t feel that inviting.

It took him longer than usual to fall asleep that night.

\--

At 0400 hours he found himself awake, again, drenched in sweat and anxious to tears with a murderous headache pounding under his skull.  
He could feel it. The dampness on his skin, the thick, fusty mist of air, the halls full of people and their constant muttering, constant tossing a turning and whining for help - it came back, as soon as he closed his eyes.

After thirty minutes it still wouldn’t go away.

He wanted to be back at the station. Familiarity, family - his chosen company and everyday routines.

One whole hour passed.  
If he could claw the images away with his bare hands, he would. Instead, he crawled out of his bed, walked straight through the door and the tiny path between his own bunker and the next.  
The door slid up. It wasn’t locked.

Slowly, he walked up to the bedside, and looked down at the darkened silhouette.

Garak’s face didn’t seem mysterious. It didn’t seem calculated or ridden with secrets, memories or intentions. It was just there.  
Like always.

Julian lied down next to him, facing away, feeling the difference of warmth in their bodies, the soft fabric of his sleeping wear, the thin mattress beneath them. His skin, soft, against a warmer roughness. Just before he fell asleep, Garak’s hand trailed down his back, around his waist, and he held him. Gently. Barely noticeably, but still. It was there.

He didn’t dream at all.

\--

When he woke up the next morning, the body next to his was gone, and it left a cold gaping hole in Julian’s reality. A reminder he didn’t wish for, or need, but at least it made him wide awake. He crawled out of the bed, sore from sharing such a small space but noticeably calmer than he expected to be.

Walking from door to door, he glanced through the passages to see if he could spot his companion somewhere, but there was no trace of Garak anywhere. Finally, just as he was about to give up, the doors to the common quarters slid open.

Two piercing blue eyes stared right through him. Julian felt so caught off guard he couldn’t get anything out but a small, pathetic; “Hi.”

Garak didn’t reply. Instead, he stepped out, brushed off some invisible trace from his ever so perfectly tailored outfit and returned to eyeing Julian carefully, reading him like a book.

Like always.

“I’m sorry --”

“Look, Doctor,” the Cardassian quickly interrupted, “If you do not wish to speak about it then there is really no need to do so. I understand what you are going through, and it is, simply put, not a very pleasant experience, but I do recommend seeking professional help from the station’s counselor rather than making irrational decisions which you will regret later.”

Julian was baffled. He didn’t expect such brutal honesty, and if he didn’t know better, he might actually suspect that Garak was feeling emotional, which just seemed straight up ridiculous. But then again, he had never seen the man in this state before.

He wasn’t really sure what he wanted to say - he wanted to object, but he could sense that it wouldn’t do any good against this hardened defence.

“I will. I just --”

“There is really no need to explain. I understand.”

He did. Julian could tell. That even surprised him more. 

"I think you are making a terrible mistake." 

"Garak."

The other man looked at him. Already doubtful.

“I haven’t done anything that I will regret later.”

They looked at each other. Julian realised he must be looking nothing less but pathetic - sleepwear, messy hair, a pleading tone in his voice. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for but Garak didn’t seem to note any of this, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. He only scanned him, his reactions, his gaze, locking it to see if he would flinch.  
And he didn’t.  
It was a game. As per usual, it was a game they’d played for many years and it never seemed to end. Julian was waiting for him to break the silence - which he of course didn’t.  
So they stood there - looking at each other. Every second passing felt like a minute. Then, Garak took a step forward, never letting his eyes off Julian’s he closed in, reached out with his hand and they touched.  
Warm. Rough.

It was part of the test, Julian found himself thinking. He couldn’t give in, not now. Not after what he’d said. So he let his body be pushed out the way, pushed against the wall where the Cardassian held his arm firmly but not forcefully, face against face so close their noses almost touched. He leaned his face forward, let their foreheads touch.

“You don't want this, Doctor.” Garak's hand reached out to stroke down the side of Julian’s face.

It felt good. It showed. It surprised the other man, who’d obviously expected the opposite, and let go for a second. Julian took the opportunity to give a little resistance back.

“What if I do?” He mumbled, almost whispering, “If you’re so against it then why don’t you just let me go.”

Whatever previously built between them came crashing down.  
Their lips met. It was the kind of kiss he’d been longing for, desperately, that made his body shiver and long to be touched. It grew hungry, and they reached for each other - two hands cupped his face, and he pulled himself in, closer and closer, as close as he could get. He wanted to feel. His whole body screamed for it, to feel human, to feel like it existed again, craved and longed for. At this moment it did, and it thrived. Pleasure rushed through his body like adrenaline, like blood, like another crucial element to keep him alive.

Their lips parted for a second and he took a deep breath in, Garak placed small kisses at the side of his face, at his jaw, down his neck. When they met again they kissed like they were thirsty. Hands kept moving, feeling, holding like they were afraid to let go. But wasn’t this it? Julian couldn’t help but think, if this was all there was for them, what would be so horrible about letting go?  
It progressed, his shirt started to trail up over his stomach, a warm hand made its way in under to touch his soft skin, he was cold and he reacted to the change, whimpered at the touch, wished for it to never stop. Their lips parted, he could feel a soft puff of air breathe around his ear, shivers up his spine.  
He was hard. Had he had a second to think, it would have felt embarrassing but it wasn’t, it was natural.  
This couldn’t go that far. He didn’t want it to, but he wasn’t sure if he could progress if it didn’t. He needed it. He needed this body next to his, he needed the excitement, the touch, the sensation of them two and this new-found pleasure. How they’d ever got on without it before was puzzling, but he couldn’t dwell on it, it was too good to miss out on.

He managed to undo some kind of clothing, let his hands return the favour, let his hands feel his counterpart - the rocky, the warm, the guarded and not as sensitive but still, Garak reacted to his touch. He let his hands move further down, down towards his trousers, feel the end of his stomach, his pelvis, hip bone, they breathed together like they’d been without air for too long.

And suddenly, it stopped. Somewhere, far off in the distance, a noise kept repeating itself. Both of their bodies tensed up, hands still all over each other, breath still linked.  
They turned completely quiet, listening.  
The helm.

Without a second thought, they both rushed towards the cockpit, flustered and sweaty and completely lost in reality.

\--

The runabout had left the nebula. They were still surrounded by light and colour, but in a dark, empty patch of open space the small wreck of some kind of shuttle was drifting by itself, no lights, no sensors, like a cadavre on an open road.

Behind it towered a Starship, belonging to the Cardassian Union. On the opposite side, a more familiar sight. The U.S.S. Defiant.

“They’re hailing us.”

Garak took a deep breath before taking control over the panel.

In a second, two brown eyes scanned them both from the viewscreen. Kira Nerys proud smile made Julians heart almost jump with relief, and he smiled, wholeheartedly, as she nodded at them both. 

“Don’t worry, Julian. It’s about time we take you home.”

\--

It took them a little less than an hour to brief Sisko in his office, from the beginning of their journey to the nebula and its effects. Even though they never reached the escaped shuttle in time, the Captain was happy to have them both back at the station. The Cardassians who’d broke free from the Jem'Hadar camp were back in their home world, facing the disappointment of war and a new union with their previous perpetrators, but somehow the Captain didn’t seem too bothered by the outcome. If Starfleet had planned to use their return as a negotiation, it could have been another potentially dangerous play of power. And Julian was relieved to be back, without consequences.

When they left, he was asked to take a few days off duty to settle back in, which he to his own surprise welcomed with open arms.

He stopped by Miles on his way back to his quarters, declined a dinner offer with the family to get an early night, but somehow ended up in Quarks to greet a few familiar faces. Jadzia and Worf seemed happy to have him back, and he sat quiet listening to their conversation, although it was mostly one-sided, enjoying the buzz and the life he’d been so keen to leave before.

  
Just as he excused himself to head back to the quiet in his quarters, a familiar silhouette heading through the bar doors, caught his attention. When he turned, Garak’s eyes met his. Once again, they stood completely still, just looking at each other. Julian was first to break it. He left his table, thought he saw Jadzia raise a brow in his direction but didn’t think, only walked straight up to the Cardassian, establishing his trust.  
He needed to prove something. What, he wasn’t quite sure.

“A word?”

Garak nodded. They left the bar, headed up towards the shop.

As the Cardassian opened the doors he put one hand on the small of Julian’s back, leading him in before making sure that everything was locked behind them.  
Suddenly, he could feel his heart rush inside his chest again.  
It was the first time they’d been alone since leaving the Rio Grande - it had only been a couple of hours with the Defiant’s speed and the welcoming company of its crew, but still, it felt like days.  
They turned to look at each other again.

Garak was back to normal. His suit was freshly cleaned, possibly freshly made, his eyes glittering in the light as he kept a proud smirk on his face, like usual, like before.

Everything was like it was. Like it always had been.  
It was a scary thought.

“Seeking council, my friend?”

Julian smiled. “Not yet. I have reports to finish, sleep to catch up on.”

“Will you manage?”

“I’ll do fine.”

Garak took one step closer.

“If you need me, you know where I’ll be, Doctor.”

So everything was back to normal.  
He didn’t want to believe it, but he did, for a second, before he dared to ask.

“So it’s over? Everything, I mean. Not just…”  
He couldn’t finish. He didn’t have to, Garak nodded.

“Perhaps. That depends.”

“On what?”  
Closing the space between them, the Cardassian took another step, let his hand lead the motion up towards Julian’s face to curl behind his neck, hold it steadily, comfortably. His thumb trailed over his jawbone.

Julian felt his blood rush, all the way up to his head.

“You, my dear.”

And they united. Again. Behind closed doors, behind the shop windows and all the tools inside. They kissed and kissed until Julian couldn’t feel his lips anymore. Bit by bit he lost items of clothing, and slowly they sunk onto the floor, devouring each other like they’d been parted for decades. It didn’t feel like hours anymore, it felt like seconds, like their parting in the runabout never happened and they were still on there, in that nebula, reaching for something they’d never find. But they had found it, and they had made it back, and there was just the two of them now - back, safe, home.  
And he still wanted this.

He hadn’t realised how much he’d been missing this touch and this hunger. It was something he’d stopped some time ago, but it was back, eating him alive. And he had another body now, one that he wanted, one that he wished he’d never part from.

Between their kisses he gasped, let himself be touched, let himself enjoy it to the point where he wished he wouldn’t have to do anything but this again. They were both hard, panting, touching and feeling, helping each other out to the point where they had to stop for a few seconds and regain control. It couldn’t end so soon, not after all they’d been through. Not just before, but even earlier.  
And they let it last, let their hands sweeten the deal and give each other pleasure until they couldn’t bear it anymore and they had to let go - had to let it finish. So they did. It felt uncontrollably good.

When it was over, they lay breathless, sweaty and sticky on the floor.  
Seconds passed. Garak laughed. Julian thought he’d never heard that before. Not that kind of laugh, just smirks and smiles, never a full expressive laugh.  
He couldn’t help but smile too.

For the first time in a while, he really meant it.

Just to make sure, he had to ask.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

Garak turned his head, looked at him. Piercing. Life behind his blue eyes.

“Of course, my dear. I would have accepted no other suggestion.”


End file.
